Third
by The Integral of Awesome
Summary: Ingrid had expected to be called in to work over the weekend, they were most of the time, but she couldn't have predicted who they'd be called in for. - High School Age. F/F
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Warm hands slid down Ingrid's sides, gripping at her waist, hips, and ass, and- _crackers_, she was going to put her photographic memory to work remembering this. This was addicting. This was exactly what she needed after the case she'd worked for the safety patrol that week. This- was actually happening in the Safety Patrol offices (after hours).

A moan escaped her lips, and she tangled her fingers in the long blonde curls, pulling Cheri up to meet her lips again, smearing her bubblegum lip gloss with Ingrid's darker preference until it was certain that both of them looked completely debauched. Then Ingrid grinned, spinning them around so that Cheri was pressed so far into Ingrid's desk she had no choice but to sit on top of it. Ingrid moved in, sliding her hands up Cheri's thighs as she went, relishing in the gasp she elicited.

Captain of the X High School cheerleaders and honorary Welcome Basket Bearer (four years later and she was _still_ doing that), Ingrid hadn't exactly expected Cheri to be her type, until Cheri had cornered her in the supply closet of the Safety Patrollers' office at the end of their sophomore year after the annual Summer See-Off's crowning of Mr and Miss Summer Sensation was interrupted by an attempted attack. Fillmore and she had been tracking the perp for almost two weeks, and she'd spotted him just in time for a take-down before Cheri's flowery sun dress could be marred with red paint.

There had been an after-party happening in the Safety Patrol offices, since half the Patrollers had been forced to leave the real party early, but it was relatively quiet in the supply closet. Ingrid had just been going to grab some extra napkins from behind the printer ink, when Cheri had followed her in.

"I just wanted to thank you, for saving me back there," she said, voice almost low enough to classify as a whisper. All her usual school-spirit, pep-tastic attitude was stripped back, and she looked more _real_ than Ingrid could ever remember seeing her.

Cheri had slinked forward a little, gaze flicking from Ingrid's eyes to her mouth and back. "Really, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

They were so close, mere inches apart, and Ingrid had to swallow around her suddenly dry mouth before she could say, "It's all in a day's work."

Cheri had hummed something, but neither of them had been paying much attention, both focusing on the quickly disappearing distance between them as Cheri continued to shuffle forward and Ingrid stood stock still. Cheri's hand come up to tangle in Ingrid's hair, thumbs brushing her cheeks, but it had been Ingrid who made the final surge forward, lips connecting frantically, desperately.

They hadn't seen each other over the summer, with Cheri off at cheer camp most of the time and those courses she and Fillmore had taken (forensics and criminology for her, self defense and weapons training for him), but once school was back in session, it'd become a _thing_. At first, it was just about the physical. They didn't talk much, but when they were alone they didn't _need _to.

It had become more than that, though, with time. It was already December, and whatever was happening between them had been happening for over four months. They'd slowly progressed to actual conversations and then occasional movies and even dinners. They honestly didn't have much in common interest-wise, but it was pleasant, being together. And, of course, they still had the _other stuff_.

Since that first encounter, they'd always held a place in their hearts for the Safety Patrol office's supply closet, but they'd branched out considerably (it was, honestly, a very small closet). Not only had they taken their nighttime activities out into the open of the Safety Patrol offices, but they'd even expanded to the cheerleaders' practice rooms, the bleachers in the gym, and pretty much behind any door in the school they could open between the two of them (which was quite a large variety).

Ingrid wasn't entirely clear on why they seemed to stick close to the school. At first, it had been all about discretion and, really, there hadn't been a discrete way to meet outside of school, seeing as they _never_ spent any time together. Since, though, they'd established something of a friendship in the eyes of their respective circles, so it wouldn't be unseemly for them to appear in public together en route to some other closed door they could become extremely illicit behind. They may have hid the depths of their relationship, but they didn't have to hide everything.

Ingrid figured they were just more comfortable in the school, where they were both relatively certain that no one would stumble across them and where they spent all the rest of their time, anyway. Between cheerleading, news anchoring, student council-ing, and all the other things Cheri filled her time with, she basically lived at the school. And Ingrid was practically chained to her Safety Patrollers' desk (as was most of the force), and any time she got away from it seemed to go to Mathletes (Fillmore made mocked her mercilessly, but she knew he was secretly proud when their team kicked the other school's asses) or Old English Literature Club or any number of academic teams Principal Folsom (who had literally _followed_ them to high school) had managed to bully her onto.

Basically, neither of them had lives. But, they were enjoying not having lives together fairly well. Ingrid was especially enjoying the way Cheri's hot breath gasped against her ear while her fingers gripped her shoulders almost hard enough to bruise.

In a few hours, they would leave, finally go home. Cheri would leave for a cheerleading competition early the next morning, and Ingrid would be back at school, training with the Mathletes unless some kid decided to pull something over the weekend, in which case she and Fillmore would almost surely be called in. She would sit at the desk Cheri was making obscene noises on top of and pretend like this had never happened. She wouldn't talk about it because they _didn't talk about it_, Cheri and her.

They also didn't talk about _why_ they didn't talk about it.

It wasn't that Ingrid was worried that everyone in her life would suddenly turn their backs on her if she came out (although she had a sneaking suspicion that Cheri held such fears). Her family would always love her, and Fillmore and the other Safety Patrollers were like family to her, and it wasn't as if anyone thought Ingrid was _normal_ to start with, but it would bedifferent and strange and _uncomfortable_. It was just so much easier if only the two of them knew, if they only had to deal with each other. Hence, no talking about it.

"_Ingrid_," Cheri groaned, and Ingrid had to momentarily stop what she was doing with her mouth to elicit such a noise because she couldn't hold in her smile.

She and Fillmore were called in the next day for a case, before Ingrid had even made her way through the softly falling snow for Mathletes practice.

"Dog, you're not going to believe this," Fillmore said, meeting up with her outside the Safety Patrol offices.

"What's up? They just told me to get here, A.S.A.P," Ingrid asked, pushing open the familiar door with half-numb hands. She got her answer when she looked inside, though, and saw Cheri sitting on the bench, _handcuffed_ to the bench, and Ingrid could almost feel her breath of her neck from the night before. "Crackers.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Vallejo stalked into the room, a steaming cup of cocoa in his grips, looking very unpleased and _very_ serious. "Third, glad you could join us."

Ingrid couldn't pull her eyes away from Cheri. Were those _tear tracks_ on her face? Ingrid had, literally, never seen her cry, and she would _remember_. "What happened? What's Cheri doing here?"

Vallejo cast an eye across the station and sighed heavily. "We got an anonymous tip early this morning about some stolen routines. We searched the girls' locker room and found a whole stash of video surveillance, multiple tapes for every school in our district."

Ingrid felt a hard ball of dread clench in her stomach. "But what makes you think that _Cheri_ had anything to do with it? Vallejo, she's-"

"The tapes were in her locker, Ingrid. Her _locked_ locker."

"_Crackers_." Ingrid clenched her fists at her sides. "I know Cheri, she wouldn't do something like this. She _couldn't_."

"Ingrid," Fillmore said in the voice he usually reserved for when one of the patrollers was getting carried away. It'd been a long time since he'd had to use it on her. Ingrid closed her mouth and averted her eyes from his questioning glance.

Vallejo sighed again, like this really was paining him to say. It probably was. "We've already called this in to Folsom, and she wanted you two on it A.S.A.P. Cheri's the head cheerleader, the student body president,-"

"The founder of 'All Dogs Go To Good Homes'." Vallejo and Fillmore cast her strange looks, so she shrugged and said, "Photographic memory."

"The point is, she's an important student here at X. She's the poster-child for perfect, and if these allegations turn out to be true, we need to handle it _immediately_. Folsom was very particular about that part." Vallejo shuddered a little, and Ingrid could only imagine the speech she'd given him (her threats had only gotten worse since they'd moved up to the big leagues).

"Don't worry. We're on it," Fillmore said, jaw set in what Ingrid liked to refer to as his "Justice Will Be Served" face.

Vallejo gave them a tight nod before heading off to his office, sipping daintily from his cocoa (most of the patrollers had moved on to actual coffee, but Vallejo was a stickler for the classics). "You until the end of the day."

Ingrid was already looking back at Cheri. She looked so out of place, all bright blond hair and bright red outfit against greyscale walls. It _couldn't_ have been Cheri. There had to be another explanation.

Then Fillmore's hand on her shoulder, a familiar weight after all the years, and Ingrid turned to look at him. "Hey," he said, voice in that soft-rough place he used when he was worried, "I know you two are friends. Are you alright?"

_You don't know the half of it_, she thought, thinking of the way Cheri's fingers had gripped her hips last night, but she said, "Yeah, I'm good. Just- Let me talk to her for a minute? I know Cheri, and this just isn't like her."

Fillmore looked conflicted for a moment, casting a quick glance over to where Cheri was chained up, before he was nodding. "Alright, you got it. Just, keep your head in the game. I know it's tough, but not everyone's who you want them to be."

Cheri glanced up for the first time and met Ingrid's eyes across the room. She looked scared and miserable but most of all _determined_. "I know, Fillmore," Ingrid said, even though she couldn't believe it, even though she could never. "I know."

* * *

Cheri didn't look any less out of place in the interrogation room. Now that she was closer, Ingrid could see where her mascara was smudged- like she'd been crying. The nail polish on her right thumb was chipped, which meant Cheri had been biting her nails (because there was no way in _hell_ Cheri would even consider going to a competition was cracked nail polish. She'd almost kicked a girl off the squad for committing such a terrible faux paw). The last time Ingrid had seen Cheri biting her nails had been at the party the previous spring, just before she'd followed her into the supply closet.

"Cheri," Ingrid said, and she was already glad that she was getting a few minutes _alone_ with Cheri, because her voice broke just on that word. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Cheri, I need you to tell me what happened."

Cheri's eyes flashed, and, for a moment, she looked _angry_, not just sad or scared. "One of my girls." Her expression cracked, and the betrayal seeped through. "How she _could_ do it, I have no idea. The team- We're like family. You know what that's like." Her gaze flicked up to meet Ingrid's, and _of course_ she knew what it was like. They'd talked about it before- bonded over it.

Ingrid sunk down into the chair across from Cheri with a long sigh. "I'm going to need a few more details. Break it down for me. An alibi would be great."

Cheri rubbed at her eyes, and it only succeeded in smearing her makeup more. "I got here early, like any other Saturday, but as soon as I got here Coach Laurel pulled me over to talk about the cheer uniforms because some of the girls had been complaining. You see, we're supposed to where these sparkly ribbons in our hair so they'll, like, catch the judge's eye when we're preforming, but some of the girls having been saying that they totally itch, but I say that it's completely worth it if, like-"

"Cheri!" Ingrid exclaimed, interrupting Cheri's tangent off into what Ingrid terms her "Cheery Cheri" territory. She raised an eyebrow at Cheri's chagrinned look. "Back to the point?"

Cheri cleared her throat. "Right, the point. So, I didn't get into the locker room until thirty minutes later, by which time most of the team was there, and then not even two minutes after I walk through the doors, Safety Patrol officers are knocking, claiming they received an 'anonymous tip'-" Cheri actually held her fingers up in air quotes when she said "anonymous tip."

Ingrid's eyes softened despite herself. "You can't put air quotes around 'anonymous tip,' dear. We actually did receive an anonymous tip."

Cheri rolled her eyes and hissed conspiratorially, "Yeah, like, from the _criminal_." Cheri shook her head clear. "Anyway, they opened up my locker and there they were, all piled into a dusty green bag that totally clashed with my cheerleading uniform." Cheri made a face of disgust at that (the clashing, not the illegal copies of stolen routines).

"How about that alibi? You run half the clubs in this school, there must be some evening that you're unquestionably accounted for on those tapes."

Cheri was already shaking her head. "They won't tell me much, but they asked me a few questions about where I was and what I was doing on some dates. Most of them were _Fridays_, Ingrid, including last night."

Ingrid perked up immediately. "That's perfect. I was with you all evening, it's a wonderful alibi."

Cheri was shaking her head again. "And what did you tell your parents we were doing, hmm? Or your friends here at the Safety Patrol? Personally, I told mine I was staying late at the gym to work on the routine.-" Ingrid furrowed her eyes, but before she could ask, Cheri said, "One of my gyms is 24 hours." Because Cheri went to _four_ gyms.

Ingrid had told Fillmore she was with her parents, and her parents she was with Fillmore. "Cheri, this is serious. You can't go down for this; you'd lose everything."

Cheri smiled softly, but her eyes were fierce. "I won't go down for this, Ingrid. _You're_ on the case."

Something occurred to Ingrid. "_Crackers_, Cheri, I can't work on this case."

"What do you mean? Ingrid, I _need_ you."

Ingrid shook her head. "Cheri, do you realize what a huge conflict on interest this is for me? You're my-" except they never used the word "girlfriend."

"They know we're friends, and they're letting you work on this. And I know for a fact that you've worked on cases for other friends in the past."

"Cheri." Ingrid closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You know full well how much _more than friends_ we are. If they knew, they'd never let me work this."

"Then we won't tell them, Ingrid." Cheri's voice was soft again, and Ingrid opened to see that gentle smile of hers, the one Cheri had worn when she'd told Ingrid "I don't want to see anyone else." "It's not like we were exactly planning on it, Ingrid. We don't tell them, and maybe I won't have an alibi, but _you'll_ be on the case. You'll find whoever really did this for me. I know you will."

Looking into Cheri's eyes, Ingrid would. She would do anything and everything in her power to find the culprit. For _Cheri_, not for justice. Not because it was the right thing to do. She just hoped that Fillmore would never find out, because if he did, the _look_ in his eyes- After everything that had happened Freshman year, the last thing Ingrid wanted was to lie to him.

"Yeah, Cheri. You're right.


End file.
